


Paperwhite Narcissus

by DanicaVarder



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mania, Mental Instability, Narcissism, Panic Attacks, Weight Issues, implied/referenced PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanicaVarder/pseuds/DanicaVarder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the most beautiful fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paperwhite Narcissus

**Author's Note:**

> Another fanfiction depicting mental illness by yours truly. I did a ton of research to get a deeper understanding of the various mental illnesses I referred to, but I may have made a few mistakes in my descriptions. I apologize in advance for any misunderstandings on my part; feel free to correct me in the comments!
> 
> Also, none of them use their nicknames for each other because I'm too damn lazy to type them in. (Though, in Kise's case, you could say that he doesn't use the suffix "cchi" anymore because he doesn't respect anyone the way he used to.)
> 
> Enjoy!

His manager is saying something again, but Kise has tuned her out. She's always spouting off nonsense about the same old things: his schedule, his ratings, what the paparazzi have said about him, how to improve his performance, blah blah blah. (Kise always scowls in distaste when she speaks of the last one; he does not need to improve himself when he is already perfection.)

The model leans back on the leather seat of the car as they zoom through the light traffic on the highway, on the way to his agency. His manager speaks incessantly into his ear and Kise nearly wants to strangle her. Instead, he rolls his eyes and lifts his phone screen up to check his reflection. One strand of golden hair is out of place and he fixes it immediately, shifting it a millimeter to the right with a huff. Imperfection is intolerable- his stylists should know that by now. Of course, everyone who isn't him is stupid and incapable. He should probably just fire all of them.

Tilting the phone a bit to the left, he examines his eye makeup. The thin stripe of black across his lash line is fine, but fine is not enough, especially when the wing at the is uneven. He nearly growls deep in his throat, cursing his makeup artists for being unable to do their job properly. Did they want Kise to look like a mess on national TV? Of course they did; they were all jealous of him. Kise makes a mental note to fire them immediately as he scrapes at the black line with a sharp nail until it is perfectly shaped. The skin burns red for a second before fading back to porcelain perfection.

He moves the phone down to check his lips next, noting that the pink stain is already wearing off. He knows that he has the color somewhere in one of his bags, but he can't be bothered to look for it. Glaring at his manager (who still has not shut up), he snaps his fingers in her face. She startles, looking up from her planner and meeting his golden eyes.

"Hey. Do something useful for once and find my lip stain for me," he commands. "How am I supposed to be successful if I don't look perfect? My face is all I need to sell- not any of the bullshit you're going on about. So if I lose my job, I'll take you down to the streets with me and sell your worthless body for a single corn chip. Do you understand?"

She ceases her incessant chatter after that, nodding as she retrieves the requested item and settles into her seat.

Kise sighs in relief at the silence and begins dabbing the product on. When he's done, he smacks his lips together a few times and pouts at his reflection.

"No one is more beautiful than you," the model praises himself. He stokes a delicate hand over one of his soft cheeks with wide eyes and a parted mouth, in awe of his own face. "Truly perfect. You are so amazing. The whole world wants you, but none of them can have you because you are so much better than all of them. God, they wish they could be you, honey."

Engrossed in his narcisstic admiration, he does not notice his manager shiver and edge closer to the car door.

*

They keep trying to tell Kise that something is wrong with him, but Kise knows that they are far from the truth. He is an icon with billions of fans and the world at his feet. There is nothing wrong with him. He is living the dream- he _is_ the dream.

(Well, except for the fat on his thighs; he has been trying to shed it for month now, but it won't budge with exercise alone. Maybe he'll have to skip lunch for the next few days.)

He pushes himself out of the leather chair, causing it to fall to the floor. He screams at his manager for interrupting his busy schedule by bringing him to this stupid place and storms out of the psychiatrist's office and out of the building. When he reaches his car in the garage, he shoves the driver out and speed away, leaving everyone else far, far behind.

*

The number won't change. It _won't_ change. Kise's breathing quickens and his eyes widen in panic. His heart feels like it's about to jump out of his chest as he takes it apart, resets it, does everything he can, before stepping on the scale again, but the number _will not change._

How can he be perfect if he's so fat? Kise sits on the closed toilet seat, trying to even out his breathing, but all he can see are those three numbers, blinking up at him in bright red. He feels bile rise in his throat as he glares down at them, hoping to change them with his mind.

63.1 kg.

Kise shrieks as he picks up the scale and chucks it out the open bathroom window, watching it fall three stories before shattering on the cement below. He chuckles madly as the scale sits, completely broken, in the middle of his flower garden and takes ragged breaths.

He buys a new scale a few days later (after limiting his diet to a single cup of yogurt daily) and smiles at the two new numbers displayed in neon green.

61 kg.

*

Eventually, they start visiting him. Kise tells himself that it is expected; everyone wants a taste of him. But as more and more of them start coming by, he starts wondering about their true intentions. He keeps himself on guard, scared of what will happen if he allows any of them to come in.

 

Kuroko is the first to come and he tries very hard to speak to Kise about the model's lifestyle, but Kise laughs him off and tells him that everything is perfect because Kise is perfect. The boy with powder-blue hair stares at him, as though examining the depths of his soul and trying to distinguish Kise's truths from his lies. Their stare-down lasts five minutes, with Kuroko's inquisitive eyes peering into Kise's fake, smiling ones. Finally, when Kuroko seems satisfied, he responds.

"Of course, Kise. You are perfect."

The model beams brightly, even though his skin is sickly pale and cold under the thick layers of makeup and clothing he wears. "I know! I love it."

Kuroko does not smile back. (Kise wants to rip his hair out.)

 

Midorima comes by as well, but Kise does not even let him come up to his apartment. After his manager had frustrated the model by taking him to a psychiatrist, Kise could not find it in himself to trust or like doctors. And, unfortunately, Midorima is definitely a doctor.

"Kise, please let me in," Midorima says over the phone, more an order than anything else. The doorbell rings again.

Kise clucks his tongue, laying on his bed (he's been feeling very tired lately) as he speaks. "I'm sorry, I can't do that, Midorima. I just can't trust your kind anymore. They all think something is wrong with me- me! Ha! I am the perfect person. In fact, at this point, they might as well call me a god! You all should get your eyes checked!"

Midorima heaves a sigh. "Kise, they may be correct. You aren't doing well, mentally and physically, and we want to help you get through this rough period as best as we can. Please open the door so we can discuss this like adults."

"You could bring an army and I would not open the door for you. Go home and play superhero for someone else," Kise snaps into his phone before hanging up and closing his eyes for a much-needed nap.

 

Midorima does him one better than an army.

Kise is in his bedroom, checking his weight and grinning at the number that has dropped further, when he senses a presence behind him. He looks up into his mirror and stifles a scream at the sight of Akashi sitting on his bed as if he owns the place. One leg is crossed over the other aristocratically- the very picture of sophistication. The model briefly realizes how much of a threat the redhead could be to his career with his confidence and looks that could rival Kise's. After all, anyone who even _thinks_ about being more beautiful than him is an enemy.

But never mind that. How had Akashi entered the room? How had he sat down so silently without alerting Kise to his presence? Was he taking lessons from Kuroko?

"Ryouta," Akashi begins, one eye glinting red and the other orange. "Midorima tells me that you aren't feeling well. As a former teammate and current friend, I must express my concern."

Kise scoffs, but it is a nervous sound, revealing his fear of the redhead. He tries to convince himself to be strong, not realizing that he is saying the words out loud. "You have nothing to be afraid of, Kise," he murmurs quietly. "You are the best."

"Tell me what is going on Ryouta, or I will force it out of you."

Kise shakes his head, subconsciously taking a step back towards his dresser. There are scissors lying on it that his stylist uses to cut his hair when she comes over. His hands glide across the wooden surface until he grabs them firmly in his hand, wrapping his fingers around the loops. He thinks that he is being stealthy- that Akashi cannot see him- but his narcissistic confidence outweighs the reality that his actions are reflected in the dresser's mirror for Akashi to see.

"Using my trademark weapon against me? Come now, Ryouta, do leave something for the rest of us common folk," Akashi says, sounding teasing and threatening in the same breath. He stands up slowly, somehow towering over the model despite being shorter. "I'm taking you to the hospital right now, so drop the scissors and follow me quietly."

Kise screams and throws the scissors.

 

"Akashi got 23 stitches," Kagami comments as he sits down on Kise's couch and accepts a cup of coffee from one of Kise's maids.

The model snarls, "I don't give a fuck. If you came to talk about him or some shit related to that, you can get out."

Kagami holds up his hands in mock surrender, taking a sip of coffee after. "I just came to check on you. It's been a while since we've seen each other."

"Like I'd ever need to be seen with the likes of you," Kise scoffs, examining his nails. One of them is chipped. "SOMEONE IN THIS FUCKING HOUSE BETTER GET ME A FUCKING NAIL FILER WITHIN TWO MINUTES OR I'LL FUCKING BURN THIS PLACE DOWN."

Three servants come running instantly and Kise holds out his hand so  that they can fix his nail. Kagami watches silently in a mixture of awe and disgust. Kuroko was right- this is so much worse than he could have ever imagined. Kise has gone insane.

"I should go home now," Kagami excuses himself, setting the cup down and standing up. It's only been five minutes, but he's had enough. "I need to cook dinner tonight."

Kise dismisses him with a wave of his free hand as he fixes his hair in the reflection of his glass table. "Hm, okay. Whatever."

 

Momoi's visit is the most painful of all. Everything she says and does is so obviously fake and insincere. It is disgusting.

"You look radiant, Kise," she compliments with a bright smile.

Kise eyes her long pink hair and big breasts and digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palm. "Of course. Aomine would never settle for anything less than radiant."

Momoi pauses at that, but smiles it off as if she had not heard him. "How are you doing? I heard- "

"Aomine loved me the most," Kise quickly interrupts, his eyes fiery as he stares her down. She takes a slow step back and Kise's face splits into a horrible grin. He laughs maniacally as he speaks, "Even with all his love for big boobs and pretty girls, he chose me."

The pink-haired girl opens and closes her mouth several times, eyes welling with tears, before responding. "I never tried to take Aomine from you, Kise. You know as well as I do that I've only ever loved Tetsuya."

Kise snorts derisively. "Always stealing the people I love, Momoi... but you've never been successful have you? You're not as beautiful as I am, so it's expected. Who ever loved you back? No one. They may have lusted, but no one truly cared about you. You know why?"

"Kise... please stop," she cries, shielding her face so he can't see the tears threatening to spill.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE! NO ONE LOVED YOU LIKE THEY LOVED ME!" he shrieks, as she runs away. "ROT IN HELL, BITCH."

 

Murasakibara does not visit, but calls. Kise is in the middle of his third weighing of the day, watching a beautiful '54.8 kg' illuminate the weighing machine's electronic display.

"Kise, you need to stop," Murasakibara drawls on the other end of the line. A crunching sound follows his words and Kise winces in disgust. "How can you not want to eat? Food is the most delicious thing in the world."

Kise's stomach grumbles hungrily at the thought of food, but he shushes it by staring at his gorgeous thigh gap. The photographer at today's shoot had been so pleased with it (as had the handsome male model Kise was working with). Of course they would be pleased; Kise was perfect now.

But maybe just a little more...

"I do eat," Kise answers defensively. "I'm perfect, so I eat and lose weight easily. But I don't eat in excess like you. I'm not an animal, Murasakibara." The model laughs at the mental comparison his brain offers him and glances into the mirror. His hair is ruffled oddly and he clicks his tongue as he readjusts it, ignoring how brittle and dry it is.

"Anyway, I have a conference soon. Do you have anything important to say?"

There is a long silence on the other end and Kise taps his foot impatiently. After all, perfect people do not hang up until they've said goodbye.

"Please take care of yourself," Murasakibara finally answers, sounding more concerned that he ever had in his life. "And try to understand that we all care and worry about you... we don't want to see you like this."

Kise nearly snaps at him, but the call ends abruptly.

"Fuck them all," Kise whispers to himself feverishly as he throws his phone behind him, hearing it crack on the floor. He directs his attention to the mirror, preening over himself. "You're perfect. People wish they could look like you."

Though, even he can see that his hair lacks luster, that his eyes do not sparkle, his skin is stretched tight over bones and looks pale and sickly.

 _But you're perfect like this,_ the voice in his head whispers. _All you need are some new clothes and makeup. People will be so jealous of how flawless you are._

Kise nods decisively and grabs his wallet and keys.

*

Every high-end store in Tokyo is swept clean of merchandise by the time Kise is calm and feeling beautiful again. He's decked head-to-toe in lavish, gaudy clothing and accessories. His skin and eyes sparkle again with a thick layer of makeup and blue contacts. His hair is still dry, but this time from all the product worked into his freshly-dyed brown locks.

The model walks into his company's headquarters with all eyes on him and a crowd of fangirl left flailing at the entrance. He basks in the attention, chuckling to himself and not realizing that most of it is negative. But he can hardly tell the difference when he is this close to perfection.

"I'm beautiful," Kise hums out loud, practically prancing through the offices and disrupting the workers. "You all are so lucky to be in my presence."

He stops suddenly, giggling loudly to himself as the room begins to sway and turn on its side. He feels giddy and drunk on the happiness of being perfect. But his head hurts... and his body is so tired... and, is his heart slowing down...?

Before he knows it, Kise collapses onto the ground.

*

_You are so beautiful, Kise._

_No one is more perfect than you._

_You are the best._

_I am so lucky to be with you._

_You are perfect._

 

Kise is sobbing when he wakes up. He tries to sit up and cry properly, but he's strapped to whatever he is lying down on and can't get up. He cries harder as the straps dig into his skin and shrieks.

"AOMINE! AOMINE! DAIKI! PLEASE HELP! DAIKI! DAIKI! DAIKI! THEY'RE GOING TO HURT ME, DAIKI! PLEASE COME BACK! I'M SORRY!"

Kise chokes on his sobs, retching out his dinner of half an apple, and cries harder.

"Daiki," he calls, more quietly, voice hoarse with screaming and crying and stomach acid wearing at his esophagus. "Daiki, please."

The room he is in suddenly floods with light as several people rush in. Kise blinks at the sudden brightness until his eyes adjust and he can see again. He is in a hospital and strapped to a gurney, that much is apparent to him. Kuroko, Kagami, Akashi, Midorima, and Murasakibara stand around him with various expressions on their faces. Kise's eyes desperately search for the one he was calling out for, but he cannot see him.

"Where's Daiki?" he asks the others, suddenly feeling very small. "He didn't come to see me?"

They stare at each other, each hoping that the others will answer. Finally, Kuroko steps forward and gently takes Kise's hand in his own. "Kise, Aomine will come soon. He was held up, but he will come."

Kise's eyes light up. (He does not notice the doctors and nurses walking around him, injecting IVs and needles into his body as they desperately try to bring his body back to a healthier state. "Really? My Daiki? Is coming for me?"

Kuroko nods, a small nervous smile on his face. "Yes. So, please, take some rest and let the doctors tend to you, okay? Aomine will be very happy if he sees that you are healthy."

At that moment, one of the doctors gives him a small dose of anesthesia and Kise nods. "Okay... okay... I'll go to sleep so Daiki can see me..."

Once Kise's eyes have closed, the others let out a collective sigh of relief and exit the Emergency Room. A distraught Momoi waits outside, unable to do anything, as the mere sight of her face will send Kise into madness. The group share a moment of silence, grateful that- despite everything- they may be able to save their friend.

 

A few steps away, staring into the small window of the ER and holding something small and delicate in his large hands, Aomine Daiki goes unnoticed by his peers. His eyes are welling with tears, similar to his friends, sitting close by.

"I shouldn't have left you all," he whispers, as he closes his eyes, hearing the slow but steady beep of Kise's heart monitor. A small tear leaks out, falling into the petals of the paperwhite narcissus he holds.

**Author's Note:**

> Satsuki's part was so hard to write, I nearly cried for her. I'm sorry my sweet angel child T.T (I promise to write something nicer for her later because she honestly deserves so muchhhhh)
> 
> Anyway, because the ending is quite ambiguous and open-ended, I invite you all to share your opinions on what you think happened in the comments. There are no right or wrong answers, so I'm really interested to hear what you all gathered from this! Don't let the tags influence your ideas, though! I tagged most of those things for the sake of people who might be triggered, but don't limit yourself because of them!


End file.
